I haven’t been updating often – and as much as I’d like to
say it’s because I’m having a creative breakthrough, it’s not.
I’m slogging through the first draft of Act One. It’s yucky.
I’m spending way too much time being a perfectionist with the intricate details
of staging rather than just getting it down on the page. The first scene seemed to take forever - though some nice moments are coming through.
A trip out of town last week threw off my schedule, then
got a cold, so wreaked a little havoc with my time in the writing room. I’ve gotten back on
track this week, but still about 15 pages behind where I would like to be. Here’s
hoping for a productive Friday.
The obligatory song for today is SOS by Rihanna.
And I have little else to add, other than no one should ever
write anything. : ) It’s hideously hard work.
I skipped a couple blog posts last week. I think at this point, once or twice a week is more realistic.
Today is the first day of the first draft of Act One. And I got my first blooms on my plant - so let's take that as a good sign.
I won't include first drafts normally, but I thought I'd do so today. It will most likely change, but this will give you a little idea at what I'm considering... This is probably too close to the book - and has too much narration, but it's a beginning.
Hopefully, I'll do about 5 pages a day for the next two weeks - that gives me 50 pages of material in the first Act - which I will eventually whittle down to around 30 before starting on Act Two.
Today's song was Like A Prayer by Madonna.
Below is the first 7 pages. Again - VERY FIRST DRAFTY :) (Which is writer-speak for crappy) And there are no tabs in blogger, so the reading will be splotchy - However, those who care to, can probably get something out of it. I'm experimenting with the idea that, instead of addressing the audience, the characters will talk with the STORYTELLER as their asides-monologues. We'll see if it stays.
AT RISE:
SCENE ONE.
The remnants of an ABANDONED SMALL TOWN. Storefronts and raggedly painted porches with debris - old washers, buckets and wheel barrows - littering the street. A sign hangs from one corner, swinging in the wind. It reads, VR DUNHAM’S Grocery.
The STORYTELLER enters, pushing through and sometimes climbing over debris to arrive in front of the store. He looks in through the window, then up at the building as if it were about to collapse.
STORYTELLER
(Looking around.)
There’s nothing left but the bones. Like an old Indian’s body the farmers used to unearth now and then plowing the fields out by Barfield Point.
(He traces the outline of the sign and then a rail.)
A protrusion. A ridge. The hardened remains of something long since gone.
(looking through the window of the store.)
It looks too small to hold all its memories. (To audience)
In 1812 the strongest earthquake to ever hit North America rocked the Arkansas Delta, causing the Mississippi River to run backwards for three days. Course there was nobody here but the Indians to feel it. Since then two other quakes have measured over 8.0.
LOLA, 17, beautiful, and heavily pregnant walks on stage with determined steps - as if the baby might fall out.
STORYTELLER (CONT'D)
The first, on a hot August day in 1967.
The men and women were out chopping cotton that morning. Working each row with hoes in hand, they gently pierced the ground at the root of each stalk and tore away the weeds with a precision that came from generations of practice.
The STORYTELLER goes and puts the VR Dunham sign back onto it’s hook. As LOLA crosses the stage, the lighting changes, the debris moves away and the buildings, though still drab, come back to life, such as it was, in the poverty stricken town.
STORYTELLER (CONT'D)
Had they not been so hard at work, the people of Lost Cain, might have noticed the tremors.
The sign and some other things hanging, almost imperceptibly shake. STORYTELLER sits at the oak table in front of the store and opens a newspaper.
STORYTELLER (CONT'D)
Noticed that not only the ground beneath their feet, but so much else in their world was about to shift.
LOLA approaches the small porch of a shotgun house.
LOLA
It’s hot as hell out here.
(She puts her hand over her mouth and looks around, embarrassed.)
(to STORYTELLER)
I’ve never cussed out loud. In front of real people, that is.
(whispers)
One of these days, I swear, I’m gonna say hell right out loud for the world to hear.
STORYTELLER
You don’t say.
LOLA nods. BRUCIE, an elderly woman with a shock of white hair standing straight up from her head, emerges from the home and goes to Lola.
BRUCIE
Has your water broke?
LOLA
Yes’m.
Brucie leads her up the steps and inside the house.
STORYTELLER
The death of a small town in America isn’t like the fiery swallowing of Pompei or the crumbling walls of Jericho. A death always begins with a simple act of God. An eruption, a flood, an earthquake - (The shaking is a little more pronounced.)
But some acts of God are less colossal in scale, although equally divine.
From offstage, LOLA screams and continues to do so.
IDA PICO, a tiny, nervous woman, 50’s, enters, carrying a pocketbook over her elbow and two large encyclopedias.
IDA PICO
Lola Jean McAllister, you are hollering to wake the dead! Now hush up before everyone in town hears you.
LOLA (OFF STAGE)
Yes, Ida.
IDA PICO
(Prickling, then to STORYTELLER.)
Both my girls refuse to call me Momma anymore. I blame their father. Truth is, I like to blame Johnny Pico for most everything. (holding up the encyclopedias)
Including these. I have trouble seeing over the steering wheel of most any car, particularly Pontiacs and what did Johnny Pico do? Up and die while we owned a Pontiac. I’ll never forgive my husband for that for that. (Puts down the encyclopedias.)
But then there’s plenty blame to go around in this family. That one’s big sister, Trudy - it’s just like her to be down to Memphis shopping when you really need her. If she hadn’t run off and married that cripple, Leon McAllister, then none of this would have been laid on my doorstep at all. Lola would have never even met his little brother, Dip, who I knew was too handsome to come to any good the first time I laid eyes on him. Hmph. If I had to do it all over again, I’d have shipped Lola and Trudy both off to my Aunt Nema’s over in Calico Rock the minute they turned 13. (a martyred breath)
What I’d give to have birthed three plain daughters instead of two beauties and Glinda. Thank God for Glinda, my eldest.
STORYTELLER
You don’t say.
IDA PICO
I most certainly do say. Ever since I’ve had those kids, my whole life has been one long nervous breakdown. And now my little girl, pregnant with a honeymoon baby.
IDA gives the STORYTELLER a look that says, “Don’t even.” HE puts his head back in the newspaper.
Suddenly LOLA appears at the doorway, both her hands on the sides, up high, dramatically.
LOLA
My God, I’m on fire!
IDA PICO
(horrified, looking around to see if anyone can see.)
Lola Jean! You get back in that house right this minute, you hear me!
LOLA (running back and forth on the porch before sitting down on the swing upstage right.)
Oh Lord - it hurts! I’m so hot! I think I’m dying!
IDA PICO
I’ll make you wish you was dying if you don’t get--
BRUCIE, non-plussed, exits with a small stool and sits it down in front of LOLA on the swing.
IDA PICO (CONT'D)
Brucie, we got to get this girl over to the hospital in Blytheville. This baby’s come early.
BRUCIE looks at Lola, cocks her head to IDA with a knowing glance. IDA wills the thought gone from the atmosphere. BRUCIE goes back inside.
IDA PICO (CONT'D)
(To STORTYTELLER)
I know that baby hadn’t come early. But I been around long enough to know that as long as I act like I don’t know any better, there’ll never be another word about it. So as far public discussion is concerned, this is a premature birth and should be treated as such. Understood. (The STORYTELLER nods.)
One word to the contrary and that child will be labeled a bastard the rest of its days. Every blessed woman in the county will just pat me on the shoulder and nod their heads like they was so sorry for me every time the subject comes up. I’ll not have that.
(Back to LOLA)
Girl, if I had the strength I’d drag you back in that house myself. I hope you know how much you’re hurtin’ your momma. Lord know who’s gonna see us out here. I’m just petrified.
LOLA screams again. IDA goes to her, the first sign of compassion she’s shown and even that’s not easy.
LOLA
It hurts like heck.
IDA PICO (this is what indulging children gets you - language)
You watch that language, missy. That word's just a substitute for what you really mean. What’s someone liable to think if they walk by and hear you cursing like a sailor? They’d think you wasn’t raised right is what they’d think and they’d be absolutely correct. No one is ever gonna say that Ida Pico didn’t raise her girls right.
LOLA
Don’t be mean, Momma.
IDA PICO (softening, taking Lola’s hand.)
All I’ve ever wanted from you girls is to do right. To be happy and do right. But when in doubt, do right. (Lola screams again. Ida is scared.)
Brucie, we need to get this girl to a hospital.
BRUCIE comes back through the doorway.
BRUCIE
Don’t believe in hospitals. Every person I ever knew that went into one, never come out. Now, Ida, I’ve birthed many a baby at seven months and not lost one yet. (a gentleman’s agreement - I’ll go along if you’ll go along )
Go in and get something to cover her up.
IDA reluctantly gives up her power to Brucie and starts toward the door.
LOLA
Am I gonna die?
IDA PICO
One more word, Lola, and I swear --
IDA exits.
BRUCIE (to LOLA and to the STORYTELLER)She’s a nerve-eater, that one.
Neither disagrees.
The STORYTELLER gets up while IDA and BRUCIE tend to LOLA on the swing. IDA throws a lace tablecloth over the railing in front of LOLA and constantly brings out things to try to barricade LOLA from view.
STORYTELLER
The whole morning passed with all of them on display. By two o’clock Ida Pico had dragged out all of Brucie’s TV trays, three potted plants and a hanging macrame table onto the porch.
BRUCIE (as IDA straightens the cloth on the rail)
Careful with that, Ida, my momma give it to me.
(under her breath)
Woulda been polite to ask.
IDA PICO (to STORYTELLER)
Me and hers about to go round and round.
Several ladies, in casual skirts, some smoking, walk through and spend time with Lola and chatting with each other.
STORYTELLER
Despite Ida Pico’s best efforts at camouflage, several ladies from town stopped by to pet Lola with reassuring words. Telling her not to worry, that they had plenty of children without being in a hospital and that things always worked themselves out. Ida Pico was quick to tell them this wasn’t just any birth, but a premature one. However, Lola wouldn’t be talked into going inside, as her mother repeatedly pointed out -
IDA PICO
(to Lola)
Any sane person with an ounce of pride would.
I feel like I should write a blog post Monday - Thursday because I said I would. This is the bare minimum of that commitment.
I did mostly boring things today. Well - I made lots of scene notecards and patted myself on the back for having a good 'breaking point/fulcrum' at the end of the middle movement. (The defining moment that changes everything for each character - which all the action has been building toward and spurs the action of the final movement.) It's probably the only part of the novel that is tailor-made for a play. (Orange - First Movement, Blue - Second, Yellow - Third.)
But then I read Tony Kushner's Angels in America for a little while and its brilliance made me embarrassed to write anything. But I'll keep going tomorrow. :)
I took off Friday-Sunday. I’m not going to do that again. It put me in a cranky mood has taken me the whole day to get back into the
swing of things. That coupled with just letting things get to me that shouldn't. Too many annoying people this weekend.
Remember kids, words never let you down or hurt your feelings. (Yeah, there's nothing unhealthy about that.) :)
Tried going to the gym, which got me a little pepped up.
So – A quiet day. I’m outlining the “first movement”. I’m
not calling it an “act” for now… But basically it kind of is. Breaking
out the notecards and pushpins.
I start the first draft of this movement next week, so I was
hoping to get a precise outline of the structure. However – since I did some
rearranging last week, I’m a little worried that I’m getting too tied up in the
final “performance” outcome and not letting myself explore the scenes.
Translation - I’m telling them which scenes should be in the play instead of writing and
letting THEM tell me.
Which highlights one of the oldest “writer problems” in the
book. How much structure prep vs. how much first draft inspiration? The
saving grace with an adaptation is that at least there is a structure
in place - when you don’t have that, it’s really hell-ish.
I’ve spent the last two weeks mapping possible outlines –
but until I put them to the test and begin to form these scenes, I’m not sure
which path the play will follow. Will it be Cain’s story?Lola’s?Miss B’s?None
of the above? All of the above?
This week, I’m setting no specific goals (other than the work schedule, gym, abstaining from Ding Dongs, etc., which are now implied weekly
goals) and let things take me where they will. First draft starts next Monday.
And for relief of crankiness – Donna Summer always helps. There Goes My Baby.
Reflection on Week Two Goals:
Flesh out two outlines – Check. (Though may have done more
harm than good.)
4 Blog Posts- Check. Enjoyed every one of them.
Screenwriting – Part One (bahahahaha) Ridiculous goal. I
barely made it through Chapter 2, much less Part One. Silly rabbit…
Office Schedule – Check.
Read 2 plays – Read Ruined and 2/3 through Fun Home. Could
have done better.
Gym every day- Check. The gym is keeping me sane, yet
amazingly NOT making me alarmingly skinny. WTF? (Happy hours may have a little
to with that.)
Ding Dong Limitation (3x) – Yes! Damn things. But I only ate 3 this
week. (Well, 6 if you count them individually, but then what kind of horrible person does that?!) :)
Wonk - a person preoccupied with arcane
details or procedures in a specialized field; broadly : nerd <a policy wonk> <a computer wonk>
Today’s blog entry is going to be very “Writer Wonky”.
I’ve been dancing around some outline work – hesitant of
jumping in, for fear of what I may find, or not find, as the case may be.
First some Wonk… These aren’t all the parts, but the ones
I’m concentrating on today…
Inciting Incident – Sets the stage, sometimes the opening scene- often
before the play begins. (Think Hamlet’s father’s death.)
Plan of Action (Goal identified) – Hero/Heroes set forth with a
goal or mission
Intermission Act Cliffhanger – Keeps the audience from going
home during intermission.
Complications toward goal – obstacles, distractions, shifts,
etc. Basically the middle (and most of the play, really).
Crisis – The thing that changes everything for everyone.
Climax – Great forces coming to battle. Somebody wins.
So in mapping out what I have today… some were easy, some
not…
Inciting Incident – Birth
Plan of Action - ??
Break Cliffhanger – Macy’s arrival? (little weak)
Complications – Getting saved, Dance, Bushes, Affairs,
Photographers, etc.
Crisis – Found kissing in the Baptismal
Climax – Drowning and Peggy/Neil/Lola confrontation.
No plan of action, no clear Cliffhanger. Uh-oh.
So initially I’m thinking this idea of finding “Beauty”
could be the plan…
A need to be seen/validated that Miss B and Cain share. She
in the culture/people/land, he in the sense of seeing his experience reflected.
And beauty is definitely a central theme. What makes
someone/something/some place beautiful?
However, that’s a pretty passive goal. It has to be more
concrete. But I’ve got so many scenes setting up the characters that I don’t
have a clear plan early enough. The Plan of Action needs to be within 10 minutes or so of
the inciting incident. And as much as I love the details of the novel that unfold life with Momma Jewel, the store, etc. They aren’t theatrical moments.
So – Think more. Get lost in a little music. (I love not
knowing what song from my past is going to play on my random list.) Today we have Livin' La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin. However your breeze blows, there's some eye candy for everyone.
Fix Lunch. Make some notecards. Play around with Structure.
What if I do the Prologue (Arrival at the abandoned town),
then the Birth (inciting incident) and then instead of going through Cain’s
childhood, open Scene 2 with Cain waiting to see Brother Neil at the church to
make sure he really got saved?
There may be ways that he could tell/reveal the backstory of
his childhood. The storyteller could come through and you light up Cain, as a
child, underneath the Oak Table hearing the men talking about ‘bits and pieces’
of Dip being sent home. Lights up on the bus, the humiliation, exile, etc.
Anyway, the goal would be to somehow give that background
and push up to Scene Two the REAL plan of action… Cainfinding
a best friend. Concrete, universal, active, consequential - especially for a bullied kid.
If I do some more rearranging, Cain could have the conversation
with Miss B about beauty and the pictures in the magazine before he goes to see
the preacher.
Instead of learning from Brother Neil at the end of their
conversation that he has a son around Cain’s age, as happens in the book, it could be that Cain knew of
Mark beforehand and has set out to find someone who “won’t know any better,” - won’t know that Cain is the town outcast.
Maybe that’s why Cain went down the
aisle in the first place when he didn’t really understand what “getting saved” meant. And was so frustrated to be siphoned off to a Deacon instead of getting to pray with Brother Neil.
This could put a whole new sense of purpose on several
scenes that I enjoy – Billy Ray flipping him the bird, Miss B and the
magazines, Lola at the church.
Making Cain have a plan beforehand gives those scenes a more
theatrical purpose.
So…
Inciting Incident – Cain’s Birth
Plan of Action – Finding a best friend (a connection for a
person lost)
Cliffhanger – Now, this puts Macy’s arrival on a new level.
If we’ve seen Cain manipulating, finding, gaining this friend – then the
arrival of Macy and her big old boobs does create a little bit of a cliffhanger
(If I’ve gotten the audience to really care about Cain.)
Complications – Sparring with Macy, Sunday School betrayals,
graveyard visits, the bridge, the Dance – Becoming friends with Macy. Kissing
Macy…
Crisis – The discovery of Cain, Macy and Mark kissing in the
Baptismal by Brother Neil – where everything changes and they are set down a
path none would choose.
Climax – Macy’s suicide attempt and the drowning lead to the
final confrontation in the church.
I’ll have to add something to show the real buildup of
Cain and Mark’s friendship. Difficult, but doable. And I’ll map out similar
plans for each of the other characters who will be on a journey – Miss B, Lola,
Macy, etc. They get their own 'plan of action' and complications threaded throughout.
With the clarification today, I think figuring out how I fit
the other journeys into this overarching one will be easier. Still a lot of
sifting, but some of that will have to wait until the first draft stage. The
foundation seems sturdier now.
So, that’s a little of my day’s work. I may or may not take off tomorrow. If
I do, I’ll still post a fun Friday song. : ) (For those who’ve sent an
encouraging message about enjoying seeing the process – thank you!) (This has
been fun and has really been helpful in adapting to my new schedule. It
definitely keeps me honest.)
It was not a stellar creative day. I blame the snow. For some reason when I spend the night in, I get lazier. I'm always more productive if I stay busy because my natural state is SEDENTARY.
If left to my own devices, I could piddle for months - trust me, I have. I think there was an entire year in my 20's that I basically couch-surfed around the country. (NYC, Virginia, Nashville, Memphis, Berkeley, Las Vegas, Laguna Beach, etc., Thanks Friends!)
So, once I dragged myself out of bed at noon, had lunch and staggered upstairs, it was 2:00. And what can you really do with 3 hours? So, it was another reading day - and jotting down a few ideas.
I finished a play called Ruined by Lynn Nottage about the devastation wrought, particularly on women, during the civil wars in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. 2009 Pulitzer Prize Winner. A good read. Nothing I felt passionately connected to, but interesting enough, with a traditional structure. I'd go see it if it was up.
The nice thing about going to a play - which I don't do as much as I'd like - is that even when I see a bad one, I learn something new. Either an interesting set design, trick or particularly effective illusion. And sometimes just what not to do.
Plodding along in the new books - and they're really helpful. A lot of highlighting.
Also monitoring the progress of my first ever plant - pictured here. So far, so good. It's a paperwhite. It drinks vodka and they say it's hard to kill. Both good qualities to have in a living thing under my care. : )
I love the sound of the squirrels running on my roof. Very relaxing. But I have a feeling that after another month or so I'm going to feel more like Chevy Chase in Funny Farm. He starts out loving the birds singing outside his window...
So - not too much excitement or plotting today. Identifying "inciting incidents" (the birth), points of attack (??) and climaxes (the river/church). As it is, the book does not easily lend itself to a play - but I knew that going in. If I'm not careful, I may just have 20 actors reading the book in a circle. While I'd enjoy that, I don't think it's quite the point.
Trivia of the day - I have 1, 419 songs in my iTunes library - 3.6 days of music.
Today's song fits the mellow mood - in honor the upcoming family trip to Hawaii in May. Somewhere over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World by Israel Kamakowiwo'Ole.
I’ve discovered that I’m definitely ADD when it comes to
outlining/brainstorming. I get up, walk around, run downstairs, take a nap, go
play with the dog, etc., every 15 minutes or so – sometimes every 5 minutes.But I’m coming back, which is all that
matters in the long run.
On one diversion, I spent about 10 minutes getting my $750
Herman Miller chair in JUST the right position so that I can lean back and
type. (I bought this chair when I was rewriting the book with my agent for about 9 hours each day after work and it was the best money I’ve ever spent. I
love it.)
Anyway – Today I’m doing a little research (The Art and
Craft of Playwriting) and playing around with outlines. I’ve begun a list of
scenes that are “Needed” “Maybe” or “Not”. This list will change a lot, but
it’s important to map out this week and next.
For example – When Bobby Lee attacks Cain on the bus. Not a bad scene (for a
book or a movie) but really not realistic for the play. Bobby Lee made a good villain in the book, but for the play, much of that will probably be backstory/off stage. We’ll cover the memory of
what traumatized Cain in another scene, but that’s a fairly easy one to know
won’t be in the play. The birth scene – Needed. It’ll set the tone and
characters, but I may bring in more characters and it may change form. Things
like the Dance – Maybe… We’ll have to see once we get more focused on the
details of the outline.
Once I determine the locations/scenes to include, I’ll
analyze each to determine which interaction is the backbone of the scene and what
other threads could be included. For example - the scene where Trudy tells Miss B that there is "room in the human heart" for more than one love. I think it will be here and I think it'll be substantial, but it may not run as a single scene but be part of a larger scene that includes Cain, Lola, Ida and Leon dealing with Trudy's illness. So the backbone of that scene may be the Trudy/Miss B conversation, but there could be other interactions and interuptions that delay the gratification/suspense, but hopefully still spur the story forward on their own.
And as always, several times today I've thought, "There's no way this can be a play." Oh well, It may not be a good play, but a play it will be - come Hell or high water.
Hopefully, by Feb. 1st when I start the first
draft of Act One, I’ll have each scene outlined in pretty good detail – then let
the characters start talking to each other. Much of what they'll say is already in the
book, but if this adaptation is like some of the others I’ve done (The Carter
Family, Alienation of Affection and Marty Mann) there will be new
combinations and revelations as well. I have to say that I do love these people. I'm lucky to get some more time with them.
It’s an absolutely perfect day for writing. I’m sitting up
here watching it snow and feeling pretty content.
And the song for today was Vogue... : ) So life doesn't get much better than that, does it?
